


Daydream Believer

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Implied Brian Kinney/Michael Novotny (Queer as Folk), M/M, No Slash, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Points of View, Romance, Season/Series 01, Spoilers, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-30
Updated: 2004-03-30
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Michael fantasizes about what it would be like to be party to Brian and Justin's sexcapades; set during season one, post-episode 110.





	Daydream Believer

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

This is a fantastical piece from Michael's POV set during the first season (after Justin comes back from New York City and moves into Michael's old room). There's such a rift between B/J and B/M shippers, and a lot of it stems from the ambivalent attitude of Brian towards both of them in the first twenty-two episodes, along with the fact that Michael hadn't found The One yet and Justin was just getting his feet wet as part of the Liberty Avenue family. I wanted to further explore the dynamic of this triad of characters who continue to be focused on even as the series reaches its fourth successful season. 

Also, the song title was directly lifted from The Monkees; there is a Babylon-centric techno remix was great inspiration. I trust the reference will not be lost on many.

* * *

Michael Novotny glanced around his childhood bedroom critically; while the Captain Astro curtains and bedspread were still in-place, and the four walls still adorned with his comic book fantasy schna, his bulletin board laden with high school accolades and even a picture of Brian, there was something distinctly alien about the mostly-familiar surroundings. His eyes roved over a large duffle bag near the corner of the bedpost, overflowing with socks, underwear, t-shirts, and jeans. 'Justin lives here, now,' Michael reminded himself, a scowl subconsciously marring his features. 'He's totally interrupted the once zen-like atmosphere of my superhero sanctuary, too.' 

It wasn't that Michael didn't *like* Justin; rather, he had no particular reason to dislike him. The blond was no more annoying or intelligent or hotter than any other trick Brian had picked up; he'd just stuck around longer. And therein lied the problem, Michael realized. Because even though he knew in his heart of hearts that what he had with Brian was a thousand times more special than what ninety-nine percent of the population garnered from Liberty Avenue's hottest stud; even though being best friends for over fifteen years had practically earned them the title of surrogate brothers; even though he knew that Brian would never fuck him and risk fucking up that friendship, Michael was still jealous. 

And Justin realized it, too, the arrogant little shit. The dark-haired man flopped down on his old twin-sized mattress and stared moodily at the ceiling; begrudgingly, he had to admit that Justin was smart - he had proven masterful at reading other people like they were open books -- even Brian, who made a point of closing himself off more than the general populace had gotten his fair share of Psychoanalysis 101 with Dr. Twink. "You're just waiting for Brian to finish jerking you off," the boy had said smugly to Michael once as they stood outside the diner.

Michael had done nothing but sputter in response; he wanted to deny it, wanted to tell Justin that he didn't know anything, but they both knew the blond was spot-on in his analysis. "Go on, chicken," Michael had barked instead, wishing he had a Tylenol at that point. "Go back to your coop." That's all Justin was, really, a young fledgling who'd been (un)lucky enough to have been taken under Brian Kinney's wing. Already, he'd proven to be more trouble than he was worth; he'd even run off to New York City with Brian's credit card, for fuck's sake! 

But, Michael thought with a sigh, if Brian seemed bothered by how much he let the blond get away with, he hadn't let on, and herein lay the thing that puzzled Michael the most. Usually, Brian's tricks had a shelf-life of about six hours, give or take the time spent hooking them at Babylon, reeling them in, fucking them a few times, and sending them off to shower. Even from square one, Justin had been an exception; he hadn't been able to go home because his parents thought he was staying the night at a friend's house, which was a lousy excuse, but Brian had not only bought it -- he'd let Justin tag-along to the hospital to see the arrival of Brian's newborn son; he'd sucked-and-fucked the boy into oblivion until well past any self-respecting kid's bedtime; and then he'd offered him a ride to his upper-crust high school the next morning, besides. 

Time and time again, Justin had overstepped his boundaries as a one-night fuck, and Michael resented him for it; not because he thought Brian's anti-dating credo was anything to live by personally, but because he'd gotten used to his best friend's bachelor-ism after all these years. If Brian never hooked up with anyone for the long-term, then Michael could still dream; he could close his eyes, lay back on his bed, and be transported back to the good old days when Brian liked his men hot, wet and disposable like so much tissue; where, at the end of the day, it was Michael, only Michael, whom he'd bother gracing with compliments and kisses and affection. 

In Michael's imagination, Brian was Peter Pan and he was Wendy and they were locked in some strange gay Wonderland where nobody ever completely grew up. But then Justin, fucking Justin, had tied a string around Brian's ankle, and suddenly, he stopped flying off into magical lands of forever-youthfulness; had stopped being the impromptu bachelor with a heart of ice. In the boy, Brian seemed to find ... *something* that kept him intrigued enough to keep bringing him back home, fucking him, and even buying him expensive trinkets and treating him out to dinner at fancy restaurants. Michael wasn't sure what it was, this mystical force that kept Brian charmed around Justin's little finger (or more accurately, his cock, rumoured quite impressive for someone his age) but he didn't like it. 

And yet, when the department store assistant manager and self-proclaimed comic book geek allowed his mind to wander, past jealousy and anger and spite, he wondered sometimes what it was like; what was it Brian and Justin had together that kept the older man coming back for more? Justin *was* cute, Michael admitted to himself, but there had to be more to it than that, because Brian had picked up hundreds upon thousands of tricks of at least equally hot or hotter physical value in his time, twinks and bears and studs alike, and none of *them* had stuck around. He imagined it was some inexplainable chemistry that they had; Brian would never admit it, but he had become intoxicated by the gravitational pull of a boy twelve years his junior, and Justin was just as eager to clamour for the brunet's attention as Michael supposed he would have been if circumstances were different. And the inability to come up with a sound *reason* for the situation scared Michael more than anything.

Taking a deep breath, Michael shut his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, willing the tension in his body away; it wouldn't do to get worked up over something that couldn't be resolved or even explained, he told himself. Instead, he let his mind slip into fantasies, forbidden territory that usually left him rock-hard and longing. Knowing this, he should have rationalized that dark daydreams were hardly a substitute for the reality he was currently trying to escape, but this time, he didn't care. Hand snaking down to unzip his fly, Michael's fingers deftly unbuckled his jeans, running over the flaccid cock nestled inside of his boxers. 'What would it be like?' he thought fuzzily, caressing himself, urging his body to relax. 'What would fucking Brian (and Justin) be like?' 

In his mind, Michael was transported to the loft, spacious and strategically lit so it never failed to serve as Brian Kinney's personal fuck-pad. Justin gazed up at him from the couch, dressed in casual sweats and a plain white t-shirt; his hair was mussed, and from the youthful glow eminating from the boy's face, the blond was obviously freshly fucked. Michael should have known that he would be.

Brian would walk into the room at this point, carrying two shot glasses of Jim Beam. "Sorry, Mikey, I didn't know you were here," he'd say, handing each of the glasses to Justin and his friend and then returning to the kitchen to grab one for himself. He'd drink sensuously, allowing the cool liquid to glide down his throat, and Michael would gulp his hastily, eyes open so as not to miss Brian's alcohol-wetted mouth and the quick swipe across it with the back of his hand. It would be remarkably sexy -- everything Brian Kinney did, though, was that way; he could be taking a shit and it would still be hotter gossip on Liberty Avenue than the Pamela Anderson/Tommy Lee sex-tape scandal. 

"We were just fucking," he'd continue with that infamous Brian Kinney smile, the one that oozed sex, the one Michael had seen everybody else party to on the streets of gay Pittsburgh besides him. Justin beamed as Brian favoured him with an indulgent glance, and Michael fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was glad he did, because the next words out of his best friend's mouth made him too preoccupied with swallowing his tongue; if he were a comic book character, his eyes would have bugged out. "You're welcome to join us," Brian would murmur, throatily, seductively, eyes roving over his best friend's body with approval. Michael realized that his fantasy self was dressed in tight black jeans and a favoured worn Batman t-shirt, neither of which provided much of a barrier against noticeable erections. And as the lust in fantasy Brian's hazel eyes clearly indicated, he seemed to be packing one. 

If Justin seemed to want to protest, he didn't let on, but that was probably because Brian pulled him up off the couch by his arms at that moment and cradled the blond to his chest for a searing kiss. Michael watched as Brian cupped Justin's cheek, his tongue slipping into the boy's mouth, imagining them battling it out for dominance. He looked down at his crotch, now quite noticeably tented, and bit back a groan. 

Brian, meanwhile, contented himself with stripping off the boy's thin t-shirt, flicking the budding nipples on his chest and grinning as they hardened under his ministrations. Justin let out a soft mewling noise and reached for the hem of Brian's own ribbed black tank-top, but the brunet slapped his hands away, instead favouring the already aroused nubs of his young lover with licks and nips. Justin's head tipped back as he let out a soft keening cry, and Brian smiled. 

Eventually, Brian pulled away, Justin protesting with a soft whine all the while. "Just wait," Brian whispered, pressing one last kiss to the blond's lips before sauntering over to stand in front of Michael. He stripped his best friend's shirt off in a singular, fluid motion, tossing it to the ground pronouncedly. Michael gulped anxiously as Brian's arms encircled him, drawing him close. "Relax, Mikey," he breathed against the other man's lips. "It's more fun that way." As their mouths met, Michael closed his eyes, feeling light-headed and dizzy. Brian cupped his erection through his pants and he gasped into the warm wetness of the other brunet's oral cavity. He couldn't remember ever feeling more aroused.

"Let's get those pants off," Brian murmured, dropping to his knees and looking for all the world like some fallen angel. Sultry eyes studying Michael's face, kiss-swollen lips curled in a soft smile, Brian proceeded to unbuckle his best friend's jeans, sliding them down shaky thighs to his ankles; his boxers -- Michael's fantasy self favoured blue silk, apparently -- quickly followed suit. Steadying the other man with his hands resting just above the back of Michael's knees, Brian grinned and wrapped his lips around his friend's hardened cock, engulfing it in that deliciously fabled mouth.

"Shit," Michael breathed, certain his eyes had just rolled back in his head. He'd heard stories about Brian's fellatio-related talents, had seen them at work dozens of times in the past fifteen years or so, but it was nothing like experiencing it for himself. Maybe it was the combination of Brian's pleasurably hot mouth and the fact that it was *Brian* attached to his cock and not anyone else, Michael didn't know; all he was sure of was that he'd imagined this scenario many times before, but only now, with Justin's curious visage eyeing his lover and his lover's best friend getting down, was it the hottest thing he'd ever experieneced. Fingers tangled in Brian's tousled mane, Michael moaned loudly; "I'm gonna c-come," he gasped, and then let out a strangled yell as he did just that, Brian's surprise fondling of his balls tipping him over the edge. 

"That was fucking amazing," Michael breathed, staring open-mouthed down at Brian through half-closed lids, who licked his lips and rose fluidly to his feet. He leaned in for a kiss and Michael eagerly complied, the lingering taste of himself on Brian's tongue turning him on more than he cared to admit. Brian, of course, noticed anyways. 

"Don't worry, Mikey, there'll be more to come," he grinned, and then turned back to the blond, wiggling needily on the couch. "Come here, Justin," he beckoned, and the boy jumped up, eager to have not been forgotten after all. Brian seemed pleased by this show of enthusiasm and slipped his hands down the back of Justin's baggy sweats, fondling what Michael had heard was a perfectly-shaped ass. Justin leaned into his lover, grasping Brian's face between his hands, craving more contact; Brian's hand eventually found its way to the boy's cock, and the slow gyrations of Justin's hips told Michael that both parties were very enthused by this pairing. 

"Fuck me," Justin pleaded, running his hands up the back of Brian's shirt and attempting once again to remove the clothing that still provided a barrier to his lover's skin. "Please, right now, I need you." It was clear that Brian found his adolescent babbling charming, but that didn't mean he was going to automatically give in. 

"Get undressed," Brian ushered, relinquishing his hold on the boy's cock. "You, too, Mikey," he nodded over to the third man, indicating the articles of clothing hastily puddled around his ankles. Michael quickly kicked off his shoes and socks, pants and boxers eventually joining them on the floor. He looked up to see Justin, completely nude, staring at him coquettishly. He looked up at Brian curiously as the brunet placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, steering him across the room until he was scant feet away from Michael. 

"Now, boys," he rumbled lowly, smiling as they eyed one another curiously. "Play nice together, so I can watch." Michael felt his face automatically contort; play? With Justin? Was he serious? Glancing at the expectant look on Brian's own handsome features, the other brunet gulped -- he was. *Perfectly* serious.

It was Justin who eventually made the first move, hesitantly drawing closer until his lips brushed against Michael's. Brian's hand pressed lightly against the back of the blond's head, urging him silently to deepen the kiss, and he eventually complied, arms coming up to rest casually over Michael's shoulders. Slowly, Michael allowed his mouth to be probed by the boy's tongue, begrudgingly allowing himself to enjoy it. His own hands greedily cupped Justin's backside in the meantime, squeezing the fleshy globes and realizing with at least slight satisfaction that all the rumours about the boy's delectable bubble butt were true. 

Justin groaned into his mouth, and Michael took the initiative to move down the blond's neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses as he made his way to the boy's chest. Something about playing with Brian's favourite toy excited him, and the blond was wonderfully responsive to every touch and kiss; he bit one of Justin's nipples, mimicking a move he'd seen Brian make many times in the backroom of Babylon, and felt himself smiling ferally as he was rewarded with a gasp. He wouldn't have chosen Justin as a partner if Brian hadn't insisted, but Michael had to admit that it was a fun experimentation. 

Brian eventually cut in, kissing first the blond and then Michael, the former who frantically peeled off Brian's shirt, his third attempt at last victorious. Feeling brave, and also feeling his erection springing to life anew, Michael pulled off Brian's own pants, sliding his hands up the toned, bronzed thighs. He made a move to pull down the red thong as well, but Justin quickly sunk to his knees beside Michael and captured one side of the scant article of clothing in his teeth. Michael nodded in understanding and followed suit with the other side, and together, the boys pulled Brian's underwear off without the use of their hands, both looking very pleased as they were rewarded with a heady gasp from the other man. 

"Which one of us are you going to fuck first, Brian?" Justin breathed, palming his lover's cock and admiring it through hazy blue eyes. "Whose tight ass do you want to plow?" The blond slid his mouth over the head of his lover's dick, wetting it teasingly, then glanced up through long lashes to gauge Brian's reaction; the brunet made no move to stop him, so Justin continued, grinning around his mouthful as he felt both his lover's and Michael's gazes on him. 

"Which one of you wants to be fucked first?" Brian bit out, knees nearly buckling as Justin deep-throated his hardened member. He regained his composure and favoured Michael with a smile; the other man rose to his feet and felt himself passionately returning the kiss Brian bestowed upon him, tongues entangling hotly. Brian groaned as he came in Justin's mouth, and then pulled the blond up to thank him. "I'm sure, since I've already been inside of you this evening," he murmured between fevered kisses, "that you wouldn't mind if Mikey went first." Justin shook his head, smiling as Brian pronouncedly kissed him on the forehead before graciously backing away. 

"Mikey," Brian murmured, caressing the side of his best friend's face. "Now you finally get to find out what it's like," he smiled. Michael knew exactly what he was referring to; he had been secretly and not-so-secretly anticipating this for fifteen years, and now it was finally happening. 

"I love you, Brian," he felt compelled to say, wanting to prolong the moment a bit. "I always have, and I always will." 

Brian's smile deepened. "I love you, too, Mikey," he whispered, standing behind the other man and rubbing his cock against the crack of Michael's ass. From the couch, Justin's blue orbs drank in the sight appreciatively, and, if Michael wasn't mistaken, just a hint of jealousy, as well. Brian had never said those three little words to him before, Michael realized; this tidbit of information made him feel very smug; Justin may have wormed his way into Brian's bed, but Michael already had his heart. 

Michael groaned. "Just ... go slow, okay?" he queried, wondering if his furious heart palpitations were as noticeable to anyone else as they were to him. 

Brian grinned and licked the shell of his ear. "I promise," he husked, reaching for a condom in the pile he and Justin had set by the couch earlier and the lubricant. The sound of the wrapper tearing, of Brian's breath hitching as he rolled the prophylactic onto his own dick, made Michael shiver. 'So close,' he thought, dizzy and giddy with anticipation. 'So close . . .' 

Hands closing around his waist jolted Michael back to the immediate location. "Ready?" Brian rumbled in his ear, cock lubed up and poised for entry. 

Michael swallowed hard. "R-ready," he whispered, urging himself to relax. The feeling of Brian's cock-head slipping between his cheeks made his knees threaten to buckle. "Oh, God, yes," he groaned as the taller man pushed in further until his cock was fully encased in Michael's ass. He wiggled experimentally, gauging the tightness of his best friend before pulling out part-way and slamming in again. "Brian!" Michael gasped, head falling back against Brian's chest; his eyes squeezed shut as Brian pressed hot kisses along his neck. His hand closed around Michael's once-more swollen cock, fisting it with precision as he pounded into his best friend again, this time hitting his prostate.

"Michael," he gasped again, and then his voice became curiously higher-pitched. "Michael. Michael? Michael?!" 

"MICHAEL!" 

Eyes flying open, the man-in-question shot straight up off the bed, hastily removing his hand from his pants. He glanced around wildly, trying to ignore the intense feeling of disappointment that surged through him as he realized he was back in his childhood bedroom. He glared at Justin, who stared at him with a vaguely amused raised eyebrow. "What do you want?" Michael hissed, quickly re-zipping his fly; he'd made a mess of his boxers, he realized, cringing slightly at the dampness. 

Justin shrugged. "Your mom wants you," he proclaimed, snickering. "But I can go tell her that you're busy, if you want." He made a move to do just that, but stopped when he felt Michael's hand on his shoulder. 

"That's okay," the dark-haired man breathed, swallowing heavily to clear away the last remnants of his masturbatory three-way fantasy. Unable to meet Justin's gaze, he shuffled past him. "I'm just going to take a leak and then I'll be right down." Justin nodded and didn't push the issue, noting that Michael seemed particularly distressed, given the situation. 'It's not like his mom walked in on him or anything,' the blond scoffed to himself. 

Inside the bathroom, Michael ran his hands through his hair with a groan, studying his reflection in the mirror. Lips moistened by his own tongue, pupils still dilated, cheeks flushed, he looked just like what he was: a deprived boy who'd been caught whacking off. By Justin, no less, which wouldn't have seemed half as blasphemous if the boy hadn't been intricately involved in his dirty little fantasy. He sighed and turned on the water, cupping it in his hands before scrubbing his face, willing away any residual effects of what he'd just been doing so his mom wouldn't (hopefully) call him on it. Drying his hands and face on a towel, he squared his shoulders and walked out out of the bathroom, heading for the staircase. 

'From now on,' he thought, 'I'm sticking to porn when I need to get off. At least then, I'll still be able to look my friends in the face afterwards.'


End file.
